Survival Of The Fittest
by Little-Delia
Summary: Not everyone can choose their destiny, but try to endure it for as long as they can. Joann Hayworth's destiny leads her towards a more turbulent future with the manifestation of her ability and realizes the truth..... AU set before & after Homecoming.
1. Chapter 1: The Rustling of A Curtain

Survival of The Fittest

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Prologue

Restless Nights and Unexpected Guests

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The cold night air poured in through the window , rustling the curtains. They danced remarkably as the breeze carried them and set them down in a graceful , never ending waltz of motion. He lay still and quiet , watching them . The motion was fluent and smooth , with an occasional flap as yet another current of air sent it cascading inward. The movement calmed his weary and preoccupied mind . When sleep refused to carry him away into the pleasant and soporific world , to the exhilarating dreams of flight , he had taken to watching the most hypnotic thing in the room. He longed for that surreal feeling of air above and air below. Not tonight...

The room itself was silent , save for the snapping and rustling of the cloth hanging on his windows. Yet his mind was filled to the brim with the words of his brother. In ways , he mentally scorned Nathan for being afraid of what they could do , but in others he knew that there was truth in that fear. No one would willingly accept what they could do. But what about the other people out there . The ones that could do strange and unusual things.

_" What would people do if they knew what we were capable of? " The paternal voice of his brother resounded through his head. " They'd lock us up and throw away the key..._

There were more people who felt the same . What about the cheerleader? The painted look on her face had been seared into his mind. She stared back at him with desperate , terrified eyes. Though he knew that she was staring into the face of her would-be murderer , he felt that she was looking at him through the canvas. Pleading . Crying out to him to save her... to save the world.

An urge to move onto his side overcame him , so he shifted and positioned himself. Now he faced one of his bedroom walls. Blank. Again he tried to settle his mind enough to sleep , and again the sleep refused to come. His eyes blinked , but did not become heavy. His chest expended and contracted , but refused to slow. He was too contemplative to sleep and found himself pleading with his mind to quiet itself. Raising his gaze to the bedside table , he caught sight of the luminescent numbers of his Equity alarm clock. They read the late witching hour of midnight.

Rather than laying in a darkened room , tortured by his own mind , he rolled his legs over the side of the bed and stood. A chill ran it's invisible fingers across the skin of his bare back as the wind permeated the bedroom. Soft brushes of his feet against the carpet covered the gentle whistling of the air passing through the confined space of his window. With a swift , impatient movement he slammed the window shut.

Sounds of the night were quieted , as he continued his haunt through the empty apartment. There was no point in turning on the lights , seeing as it was his apartment. Aimlessly , he wandered , pacing across the floor . This made him feel slightly uneasy with his own thoughts, thoughts that may be leading him to the point of lunacy. The mere concepts of what he was thinking seemed impossible , even to him , but something was leading him to some unknown conclusion. He knew in his heart and mind that there were answers. The traveler from the future had confirmed that...

A loud and unsettling noise broke him out of the train of deep and aggravating state of thought. Pausing , unsure if he had actually heard something , he waited. Again came the loud , almost desperate sounding rumble of someone pounding on his door. Who would be coming here in the middle of the night? Taking short , hesitant steps he approached the door. Soon the rumbling became more rapid and with seemingly no space between the knocks.

Leaning against the door he called to the outside , " Who's there?"

There was a soft pant-like shudder , " Thank God your home. "

" Yeah... " He was confused by the strange ragged breathing underneath the soft feminine voice.

" Please , please ..." The women's panting turned into exasperated weeping. " Please open the door Peter. Your the only one who can help me. "

" I'm sorry. I have no idea who you are." Backing away from the door , he waited for her answer. Only silence met his ears. Had she gone?

A loud creaking noise filled the room , like the wood of the wall was being pulled apart. He darted from the door to what he hoped would be a safe distance. Watching in horror , he saw what was making the horrible creaking. Before his eyes , the solid wood of the door began pulling itself sideways, as if the door was made of rubber. Soon a large , gaping hole had formed , revealing a frail silloette standing in the hallway. Through the darkness , he could make out the most obvious features of the girl. She had short , unbrushed locks the color of a raven's wings. Her face was gaunt and sunken around her dark eyes . It was almost unbearable to look at her nearly emaciated appearance.

Through her weakened state , she managed a small relieved smile. " Peter..."

As soon as his name had escaped her lips , she swayed sideways , eyes rolling into her skull. Acting quickly , he caught her right as she was about to hit the ground. Holding her delicate form in his arms , he watched the door seal itself as if the hole had never been there at all.

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A/N: This chapter is set prior to Peter seeing the painting of his death in "Homecoming" , and just after his talk with Nathan about their abilities.


	2. Chapter 2: The Sound of Footsteps

Summary: Everyone wants to be a hero . The problem is that the people that have the potential for heroism are not always in the position to do it. Joann Hayworth is one of those people. Sometimes you just need to survive.

A/N: I want to take a moment to thank my Wonderful , Talented , Kind , Generous , Helpful Beta for all of the hours she spent helping me with my story.

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Six Months Prior...

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The small voice of common sense was screaming in her ear.

' Your being an idiot , Joann!' , it scolded. For some reason her conscience sounded an awful lot like her drunkard mother.

She had never listened to what she was being told. This wasn't the first time she had done something like this. It wasn't even the second. Maybe a seventh outing like this was pushing her luck , but it was such a rush. The fact that she hadn't been caught only made the feeling better. People said that seventeen year-olds did stupid things just to get out of being bored , and that to some extent was true. But not in her case. She needed this excitement , the thrill , to survive. Most kids her age were out partying , drinking or having sex with anything that moved. That was what _they_ did to distract themselves from the reality of their sucky lives. What she was doing wasn't a distraction . It was a method of self-preservation. It gave her a purpose. Most people had various hobbies to keep them sane or to put bread on the table. This was hers. As illegal as it was , it was something she had to do.

The large amount adrenaline pumping through her veins helped propel her feet swiftly and silently across the darkened sidewalks of Dallas. It was easier and more cautious to go on foot. Cars were a liability. It was easier for police to catch someone in a car than it was to find someone who was running. Someone on foot could use the dark to find hiding places , which was impossible to do in a big piece of metal on four wheels. However , just to air on the side of caution , she had parked her recently purchased Kawasaki Ninja 650R two blocks away.

There was no one around to see her. She didn't expect there to be. No one except crooks , cops and paramedics were out at one in the morning. That worked splendidly to her advantage. It took five more minutes of quiet slinking through dark alleyways to finally catch a sight of her prize. The building was short compared to the skyscrapers and high-rise apartment buildings that surrounded it , but it still had the certain look of grandeur that was a defining characteristic of many federal banks in the area.

No sounds were emitted from her smooth and deliberate movements as she located an ideal hiding spot. Hunkered down in the darkened back alley of the building , she listened intently to her surroundings for any indication of life. As she predicted , there was no one around to see her enter the bank. This quiet and secluded space was the only area that was not littered with bank security.

In one swift motion , she whipped the hood of her sweater over her short raven-colored locks . Her worn backpack hung lightly against her shoulders , waiting for the weight of the prize that awaited her inside the building. Her head turned from side to side , confirming for the last time that she was in fact alone. Fearlessly she dashed from her hiding place and crossed the alley. She had spent last night scanning this area so she could calculate exactly how she would enter and exit the building. There was a locked back exit door that faced the alleyway. Nobody bothered to use it because it required a key card to get in. For her it would be no problem to enter and exit without setting off an alarm. Cautiously she approached the exit door and , with a gloved hand , caressed the smooth metal. She could tell immediately that it was made out of reinforced steel. It was time to go to work.

A distinct buzzing feeling filled her body and exited through the palm of her hand. She began to visualize the material of the door rearranging itself and forming an opening. She had to be careful not the shift the parts of the door that would set off alarms inside. Following the orders of her mind , the cold metal of the door began to pull itself away from its center. In the blink of an eye , the middle of the door contained a cavernous hole , leaving barely enough room for her to pull her slender body through .

With graceful movements she slipped through the opening. As soon as she passed through , the hole snapped shut and returned to its previous state. The hallway she had entered was nearly pitched black , with a few small exceptions. In each of the corners was a blinking red light. Security cameras. These pieces of technology were very useful when dealing with everyday human crooks. She was something else. Something different.

Not wanting to risk being fully captured by the pestering devices , she shrunk into the corner closest to the door. During her first bank job she had worried about the security cameras . Now dealing with them was simple. Pressing her hand against the wall , it took no longer than a second for the pleasant buzzing to fill her fingers. She loved the way it made her feel. How it made her truly experience the extent of the abilities. The buzzing quickly grew to its total potential , allowing her mind to take over.

The walls began to shift , rippling like water under her touch. In a matter of seconds , the metamorphosis extended into the security cameras. Lenses of all four cameras began to take on the appearance of melting , folding in on themselves. This made the capture of any image impossible. It had taken her weeks of practice to be able to perfect her "power" and project effect away from her body. She was hesitant to call it a power. Power was a word used comic books to describe their characters. It made her sound like she was better than other people. She wasn't better , just extremely , shockingly different. Wether she liked it or not , this surreal and impossible ability was real.

Once she was able to get the lenses to stick together, she began her journey into the darkened hallway . Moving quickly and quietly was her goal. Get in fast , get the money and get out. It was only a matter of time before the security guards in the camera office realized that those cameras weren't working. In her short time of robbing banks , she had learned much about the layout of the buildings in the Dallas area. To an average bank customer , the entrance annex of every bank looked different. Many of them had different teller windows , different bathroom locations , ect. However , there was one exception to that rule. Bank vaults were all located in same general area. They were all situated near a security station , which had proved a problem on her early "rip-offs". The closeness of the guards made it extremely difficult to get into the vault without them being alerted to the breach. She soon came up with a remedy to that problem.

All doors had metal in them. While experimenting with her ability , she had learned that her effect on materials was stronger when it applied to what the Periodic Table called transition metals. The amalgamations of these substances had been the first things she had learned how to manipulate , making door locks very susceptible to her commands. And also very troublesome for security guards , once they realized that they couldn't open the door to leave their post.

The hallways and walls swerved at sharp angles as she maneuvered them. Again she paused. There were more cameras in the hallway , but it seemed that fortune was on her side tonight. The devices in this section of the building had been deactivated , most likely due to a need for repair or re-calibration. This was a pleasant unforeseen advantage that made her able to move freely throughout the building.

Time seemed to pass slowly as she continued to penetrate this labyrinth of hallways , but it wasn't long before she saw an erie light ahead of her. Peering around a corner , she could see that she had reached her objective. The guard station was directly ahead of her. So close , in fact , that she could see what the station's occupants were watching on their small television set. The room in which they were sitting was almost as small as a walk-in closet . There was only two features that distinguished it from any other room . A large window that took up a great amount of the wall , which extended nearly five feet in diameter. The second , yet most important , feature was the room's neighboring door. Directly at the end of the hallway stood a large door that stretched to the ceiling. Polished titanium coated the outside , giving it an almost foreboding and powerful aura. Even from this distance she could sense the metal through every cell of her skin. It called to her , beckoning her to pursue the treasures which it protected. It was the main bank vault.

Before she could continue on with her plan , she had to make sure the guards would be unable to interrupt . Turning her attention away from the vault , she tiptoed towards the door of the guards station. It was like the doors that lined the hallways of schools . This particular door was designed to have strong locks and hinges . It only had one lock which had been installed directly above the L-shaped door handle. The polished wood of the door glistened in what little light was present in the hallway. Crouching down into a squatting position , in an attempt to prevent being seen from the window , she placed one hand on each side of the frame that held the door in place. The frame was constructed out of a thin , yet sturdy , metal. She watched with great glee as the door frame began to seal the door shut. It would have to be cut open with a blow torch in order to free the men trapped inside. This would ensure that she would not be bothered .

Rolling onto her knees , she crawled along a small two foot tall strip of wall below the guard window. Upon reaching the vault , she pulled herself onto her feet. Her skin began humming with an odd sense of pleasure as she examined the titanium of the door. For some reason that she was unaware of , she knew that it was almost eight inches thick. This newfound ability had some how given her not only the ability to manipulate objects , but to know exactly what it was made of. This odd sixth sense that she now possessed had been very useful in these break-ins .

It was odd how people thought that if they could build a thick enough wall , they could keep out everything that could harm what they treasured. That thought made her want to laugh , as she watched the thick layer of metal ripple underneath the palms of her hands. The metal danced as the atoms within rearranged themselves to her desire , forming a pathway into the vault. The newly formed entrance was tall enough that she walked straight through .

Inside were shelves lined with thick stacks of dollar bills. The face of Benjamin Franklin stared back at her as she rapidly began to shovel the bills into the open pouch of her backpack. It didn't mater how much she got , as long as she had enough to pay for what ever she needed. It wasn't greed. She needed to know that no matter what happened , she would be able to provide for herself. The shoveling continued until the backpack began to weigh down on her frame. Quickly she zipped up the bag and exited the vault.

She took off down the hall at a dash , not caring if the security guards saw her now that she had what she needed. It seemed that she would be able to reach the exit door , until a loud blaring stopped her in her tracks. Someone had pulled the alarm.

" Dammit!"

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A/N: Do not own anything related to Heroes. Yada Yada . Property of blah blah blah. I really hate disclaimers. Just know that if I did own Heroes , I would be busy shining up my fancy sports car instead of writing fanfiction. Joann , however , is MINE! All mine! MINE MINE MINE! Just so we're clear. ;-) If there is a real Joann Hayworth out there I apologize profusely for using your name. Just know I had no idea who you were. PLEASE REVIEW!

P.S: I have no knowledge of the technology that banks use in their vaults. This was totally made up. Kids , DO NOT TRY THIS AT ALL! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!

Little-Delia


	3. Chapter 3: Fight or Flight

A/N: Thanks to my FIVE wonderful reviewers who took the time to review! As for the rest of you who read but didn't review. I know you're busy people but I really need you to. I will take constructive criticism with grace , but I cannot improve if I don't know what's wrong. I write , not only to please myself , but to entertain you. So please show me that my work is appreciated. Reviews to a story are like dancing a waltz. It's a partnership. PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE! PLEASE!

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Chapter 3 : Fight or Flight

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" Dammit!" That was the only word that came to mind. This had never happened before.

A shrill alarm filled her ears and mind with an overwhelming sense of urgency. If she didn't get out now , what was left of her dismal life would be over. The cops would lock her up , or turn her over to whoever handled threats to national security. Even if she could escape after being arrested , she'd have warrants out for her arrest. There would never be a moment where she was not looking over her shoulder , worried that the authorities would be there to take her away. She had to get as far from this bank as she could.

Without stopping to assess her situation , she broke into a sprint. For a brief moment there was complete and utter silence. Nothing else seemed to exist , except the graceful pumping of her legs as they carried her forward at full speed. The adrenaline in her system sent her heart into a rush of rapid beats. Walls and doors blurred as they passed in front of her eyes. She felt no fatigue or pain as she continued to dash through the halls like a bolt of greased lightning. There was no time for pain . The need for escape had blocked out any awareness of pain or sensation. Human bodies were remarkable machines when it came to self-preservation. They obstructed any emotion , any sensation that was not necessary for survival. Had she not been running for her life , she would've taken time to appreciate this wonderful innovation that evolution had created.

" Stop right there! " A deep voice shouted from behind , followed by a ruckus of heavy footsteps.

Somewhere , deep down in her subconscious , there was some part of her that was still conditioned to follow orders of an authority figure. It was that besetting part of her that slowed her pace to a halt. This was exactly why she had spent so much time planning these robberies. Even though she held a distinct advantage over the security guards that were now surrounding her , confrontation was not what she wanted.

She stood straight and still , frozen to the floor by the anxiety that was now pummeling her mind . There she waited , unsure of what would happen if she strayed from her position. When a dreadful metallic click penetrated the silence of the hallway , her stomach jumped into her throat. Though she had never heard this type of clicking noise in real life , she knew it well. Every child who had grown up watching action movies knew that heinous click. It was imbedded in every human mind as something to fear , but it was different when it was it was directed at you. Someone behind her had cocked the barrel of a gun.

" Put your hands up." This voice was more feminine than the previous , but made the word " butch" come to mind.

What happened next would surprise , and unsettle her in ways that made her doubt the control she had over her own body. For a few tenuous moments time , or the regular perception of it , ceased to exist. Only the neurons in her brain seemed to be in full awareness of her surroundings. Whatever process was occurring in her head , it was pure instinct. For those few seconds she was a puppet , making her unconscious mind the puppet master. With little warning , she rigidly brought her hands upward. When they reached shoulder level , however , her right arm lingered behind its counterpart. This strange action had made someone behind her nervous , because she could hear a tense commotion of movement .

" Put your hands on your head! Now!"

In a sudden burst of unpredictable movement , the palm of her right hand made violent contact with the paster of a nearby wall. There was no effort on her part , as her fight-or-flight reflexes took control. In a precipitant flurry of activity , a familiar buzzing of her skin began to change into something different. Instantly , she could feel the trillions of atoms in the wall completely suspend their movement. Somehow she had managed to deactivate the energy of every atom that the wall contained. This abrupt change caused the wall's composition to become dangerously unstable. A profound and enervating rumble filled the hallway , as the capricious instability continued to increase.

Rapidly , her arm recoiled back to her body . The sudden movement was the final catalyst needed to complete the effect she desired. She could hear the crowd of guards begin to shift in a wave of fearful motion. They had no idea of how bad this situation was about to become. This was her only chance to flee and avoid imprisonment. When the rumbling of the wall reached a critical mass , she took it as a sign to bolt.

The guards attempted a pursuit , but it was too late. In a final protest , the wall cried out in a cacophony of low crumbling noises and lost the will to support itself. Instead of falling in large pieces of rubble, the paster transformed into in a dense powder. It collapsed in a wave of thick haze , coating the dark hallway in a sea of murk. Even though she had managed to escape being swallowed up by the brume , she had been unable to avoid what had been released into the air. The miniscule particles burned her eyes and stuck in her lungs , suffocating her as it coated every crevice of her body.

Desperate for a breath of clean oxygen , she pulled the collar of her black hoodie over her face. She had to protect her airways from , what she assumed , could be hazardous to her well being. It took her an instant to feel the sweet air rush back into her chest and dispel the the viscous material . Her eyes were another matter. They burned in protest to the foreign attackers that were now invading her tear ducts. She shut them tightly , unable to open them again. This would severely impede the hasty exit that she would've preferred. The only way out was now invisible to her. A possible method of escape had quickly become an imperilment.

She had never appreciated the sense of sight as much as she did in that single moment. The gift of sight was the one thing that the universe seemed hell-bent on denying her. This was no time nor place for her to be rendered blind. Stumbling sightlessly through the hallway tempted her to roar in frustration. The further she went , the more lost she became. To the best of her knowledge she could've been going in a perpetual circle. There had to be some way to transcend this obstacle. All she had to do was think , think with all of her mind. Than it hit her like a freight train.

If she couldn't use her common faculties , it was time employ an uncommon one. The outside door was made of reinforced steel , a substance that was just as unique as titanium. If she could feel the bank vault through the thick walls of a building , than there was a slim chance that the exit door could be found through the same method. Only one thing stood in her way. Her sixth sense was not under her command. Previous attempts to harness control over the sensitivity had proved to be a laborious task , making her present hope of escaping dwindle to unlikely encouragement. The humming feeling would come to her when it pleased , with no regard for her wishes. Whatever this bizarre sensory perception was , it had a mind of it's own.

Now was an inappropriate time to be wallowing in self-doubt. Trusting in her abilities was her only option. Without them she would be caught by the police who were , in all probability , rapidly approaching the building. Adding itself to her list of concerns was the plaguing fact that the security forces would soon find their way through her smoke screen. It was a now-or-never situation.

With a silent prayer in her heart , she began to concentrate. For the first moment this attempt felt inevitably unavailing , frustrating her almost to the point of defeat. Then it happened. With the aide of the adrenaline swimming through her body , she had managed to will the recesses of her brain into stirring up the fantastic perception. Her eyes were still closed , as protection from the aerosolized plaster , but she could knew her surroundings. The entire surface of her skin was whirring , humming in delight. She could feel the different frequencies of the atoms that were gyrating around her. Each one was different and varied depending on what substance was emitting it. Every tone mapped out her path.

There its was. The steel door , the way out of the smoke , her salvation from possible captivity. She sped forward , gravitating towards the palpitations that the metal was emanating. As soon as she knew that the doorway lay in front of her , she opened her eyes. It was there , it's reflective surface gleaming . Raising her right leg , she kicked at the door with as much strength as she could muster. With a satisfying crack the lock snapped , allowing the door to fly open.

Normally , she ignored her little voice of reason that assaulted her on a daily basis but now seemed like a good time to listen. It was presently telling her to get her sorry behind as far away as she could. Now would be a good time to comply. Running was all that she was concerned with. The sirens all around her were silent. Get away , get away , get away. The need to flee was now as important to her as breathing. She soared forward on determined feet. Every time she blinked , another strip of sidewalk was far behind her. Before she realized it the bank had disappeared behind her , gone from her mind like a passing breeze. I took seemingly seconds to clear the two blocks in between the bank and the parking lot where she had left her Ninja. In all it's glory , the black paint of her beautiful bike glistened in the heavenly glow of the sky above. Without a moment's pause , she leapt on top of her motorized stallion. The black hood that had protected her identity was rapidly replaced by the hard fiber glass of her full face helmet. She practically broke the key as she jammed it into the ignition. The engine roared with a passionate fury , making her smile. Cranking the throttle , she whipped out of the parking lot at top speed.

The deed was done. She had escaped with her freedom intact and money in hand. However , this unfortunate incident would inevitably force her into laying low for awhile. The cause of this near failure may always remain a mystery , but the consequences were clear. There would be an uproar in Dallas. The news would get word of her incursion , and even though she had not been identified , banks around the city would tighten security. There was no way that she would be able to break into another bank in the near future. Tonight's get away was pure luck. The next time she might not be so lucky.

There was no need to continue the break-ins anyway. Throughout her short career of as a bank thief , she had accumulated a pretty large stockpile of money. With the addition of the money from tonight's job , her stash would grow to over half a million in hundred dollar bills. That amount was almost an overindulgence . It was ironic that her crime spree had originally started off as a desperation for food and had blossomed into a situation that was beyond her control . She hated that she had lost herself , her integrity , her soul in order to put food in the refrigerator. Survival was a messy thing. The need to live made people go to desperate measures , as she had. It made humans lie , cheat and murder. After awhile of committing desperate acts , one tended to lose the guilt. One could learn take from another with no remorse. The so called survival-of-the-fittest had changed her , corrupted her.

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An hour later she neared the end her journey. An embedded sense of fear leapt into her stomach. Every time she returned here she felt as if she was walking to her own execution. In a way she was. Stopping in the drive way , she stared at the building. Her hands gripped the handle bars of her bike firmly , furiously trying to will the anxiety away. She wanted to forget who she was and escape the life she wished she didn't have.

Unfortunately , she was Joann Hayworth. When she wasn't becoming a notorious bank thief , she was the only child of the drunken dead-beat Deborah Hayworth. She was the invisible daughter of a mother who used their rent money to buy vodka and threw her into walls when she ran out. Over the seventeen years of her existence , she had any form of human emotions towards her mom beaten from her psyche . It was odd. Odd that at one time she thought that if she was given the power to do something about her situation , she would use it to rid herself from her mother's cruelty. Now that she could do something she felt just as powerless. In every comic book and television show that depicted people with unnatural abilities , all of the special people became either good guys or bad guys. But her life was no comic book. She hadn't become either. Life hadn't changed for her , the girl who no one thought of or talked to. The girl who used to work late shifts to pay the rent and electric bills. The girl who walked home from school everyday , hoping her mother was passed out in a drunken stupor. Sometimes she wondered if her real ability was to be invisible from the world around her.

The appearance of her house reflected the dilapidated relationship of it's residents. Many of the windows in the one story shack were cracked , and the stained paint around them peeling. The lawn had long since died , leaving behind a cesspool of rotten ground that made the yard reek of death. Pieces of the broken cement doorstep were strewn across the yard like broken tombstones , each one representing one stage of her constant dissolution. If the statement , " Home is where the heart is " , had any validity , than she was a vagrant. Her heart had no home , no place to feel loved . It's only company was her consciousness . She was her own best friend. _She_ was the only one she could trust.

Finally , when she was able to call up enough strength , she separated herself from the seat of the motorcycle , removed her helmet and began her descent into her own personal inferno. As she reached the front door , a strong scent of liquor wafted into her nostrils. After so many years of smelling that addictive substance , it came as some surprise that it still made her sick to her stomach. It was , perhaps , the memories behind the odor that weakened her tolerance for it. As hard as she tried there was no amount of power she could summon to rid herself of them.

The house was dimly lit . The faint street lights from outside cast ominous shadows across the tattered furniture , illuminating the dreaded form of the very individual she had hoped to avoid. Through a lack of a more proper description , she could only call the individual "beast". Luck , however , seemed to be shining down on her. There , in all her wasted glory , was her mother. Her sleeping form was spread across the sofa , limbs hanging haphazardly from her torso at different angles. On the floor beneath was an empty Jack Daniel's bottle , licked dry by a desperate junkie.

Knowing that the beast would not wake for another twelve hours , she walked bravely across the living room towards the back of the house. Her bedroom was not so much a room as it was a extraordinarily large closet , containing just enough room to walk and dress somewhat comfortably. Another constant reminder of the prison in which she lived. Although her recent source of money had provided her with a chance to attain some luxuries that would've previously been beyond her reach , her living quarters were almost devoid of any possessions. A single twin bed had been placed there , a testament to her mom's "loving courtesy". Underneath the bed lay a dark green military-issued footlocker , large enough to fit the sparse amount of her worldly belongings. That was were she hid the earnings of her late night "job". It was constantly kept locked , as her mother was not above stealing to pay for more booze. Against the wall on her right hand side was a small dresser , a small bedside table and full length mirror. The only form of decoration in her "cell" was a rusted wind-up alarm clock , the only time piece in the house that had not been a victim of her mother's rage.

In sharp , fearful movements she closed and locked the door behind her. She and her mother had to be as separated as possible , for her own safety. In her intoxicated rages , her mother would come looking for someone to fight with. Her mother's favorite target had always been her , the scared child cowering in the corner. Even now she was afraid for her well being if her mother managed to get her. As useful as her "gift" was in robberies , it was utterly useless for defensive purposes. Sure she could manipulate man-made objects to do fantastic things , but when it came to living , breathing organisms she had no power. There had been many times where she had hypothesized the scientific mechanisms behind this abnormality. The best reason her young , unexperienced mind could come up with was that there was something about the construction of living cells that made them impervious to her "charms". Therefore , she could not hope to use them in a fray with her much stronger mother.

Crossing the room , she reached beneath the bed and roughly pulled on the foot-locker. Under instant command from her touch , the locks around the edge of the lid melted away , allowing access to its contents. Removing the backpack from her fatigued shoulders , she wasted no time in depositing the newly acquired cash into her hoard. The stockpile of money was large , large enough to provide her with whatever she needed if she decided to leave. The time to leave would come soon. With her eighteenth birthday two months away , she would soon be legally able to commit her mother to rehab institution without a fear of Child Protective Services. When that glorious time came , she would be able to get a fresh start. If it hadn't been for her status as an underaged minor , she would've left after graduating at the early age of seventeen.

Restoring the locks to their original state , she placed the foot-locker back in it's space under the bed. Afterwards , she glanced over at her mirror. At first it appeared that she had had a bag of flour dumped on her head. According to her reflection , she was completely white from head to toe. Apparently , she had not escaped the collapse of the bank wall as well a she would've liked. Plaster particulate was dispersed evenly over the entire surface of her person , coating the short strands of her normally onyx-colored hair. The cloth of her sweater would most likely never be black again , her pants were forever ruined and her favorite pair of black boots would require several coats of polish to remove to dense layer of soot now covering them. The whites around her hazel eyes were bloodshot from the particles that had shot their way into her tear ducts. That would be the last time she would attempt improvise an escape plan without considering the downsides.

Turning away from the bleached image in her mirror , she removed the dirty clothes , shook the wall dust from her hair and fell violently on her bed. As soon as her eyelids closed , the sweet hand of exhaustion pulled her into a much needed slumber.

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_A black car sped along an empty road , street lights reflecting brilliantly off it's overly polished paint. The night air was brisk for a late night in mid-April , and a steady stream of air tickled the hair of the car's occupants. The driver , a handsome middle-aged man , loosened his tie as he began a conversation with his companion in the passenger's seat. _

_" My brother Peter , the hospice nurse. Can you believe it? It's ..." The man said , scorn littering his voice._

_" Oh , it's a perfect fit. " The passenger , a glamorous woman , replied cheerfully. " He's selfless and empathic."_

_" He's self-centered and righteous. Self-righteous."_

_" He's a hell-of a lot nicer than you." The woman teased._

_" He can afford to be. He hasn't been under as much scrutiny." He retorted bitterly. " My dad did what he had to do to take care of his family , and that is something Peter is never going to understand."_

_" And you do?" _

_" It's my responsibility . It's my inherited birthright. I didn't ask to be Dad's favorite. I never asked to be loved more than Peter , but that's just the reality." The man confessed sadly , looking into the rear-view mirror. " What's this guy want?"_

_A large Suburban appeared on the horizon behind them. As it approached the much smaller convertible , the Suburban gained uncontrollable speed. Bumper met bumper in a deadly tussle that would not end well. Again and again the larger vehicle bashed the bumper of the weaker one. The woman screamed after the fourth ram and turned to the driver's seat , only to find it hopelessly vacant. _

_" NATHAN!"_

_High above , the man soared hopelessly above the commotion , floating gracefully on an unseen current of air. " HEIDI!"_

_" NATHAN!" The woman cried as the convertible painfully struck the lane divider._

_"HEIDI!" _

_As if an invisible hand had let go , and the man plummeted three-hundred feet below , striking in the ground ._

_----------_

" Heidi !"

A resounding smack shook her body , crushing the air out of her diaphragm. With a pained gasp , her eyelids snapped open. The wood floor of her bedroom stared back at her , taunting her with the pain that the collision had caused. A moan paired with a muffled profanity escaped her throat as she pushed her weight onto her hands and knees. Her movements were stiff and uncomfortable , still in shock from the obvious fall from her bed. Standing unsteadily on her feet she rubbed a her hand on the cheek that had taken most of the impact.

Absentmindedly , her gaze panned around the tiny room. It was extremely difficult to tell what time of day it was , seeing as there were no windows to provide her with the orientation of the sun. Instead , she turned to her closest connection to the outside world . The old alarm clock sat on the bedside table , hands ticking by rhythmically to the steady beat of it's ancient gears. To her distress , the hands of the clock read seven-thirty.

With the amount of "income" she had brought in from her alternative source , she sometimes wondered why she continued to get up and go to work every morning. She told herself that it was to keep up the appearance of being on ordinary teenager , rather than an uncatchable sneak thief. In reality , she knew it was her desire for some normalcy that kept her working. Normal was what she had never been and , now, never would be. Her ordinary , mediocre job felt as close to that simplistic ideal as she could get.

Pushing the disturbing dream from her mind , she began scampering for her work clothes.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed this long grueling chapter . It took me forever. Thanks again to all the people who DID review. And another warm thank you to my wonderful Beta for yet another late night spent at the computer helping me write this chapter. REVIEW PLEASE!

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	4. Chapter 4: Move or Be Moved

A/N: I you are a more sensitive reader , be advised that there is some rather graphic content in this chapter. Specifically , violence and foul language. I'm not telling you to stop reading , just brace yourself.

Also , a very esteemed thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far.

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Chapter 4 : Move or Be Moved

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_" The police have no new leads on the robbery of the Federal Reserve Bank of Dallas late last night. Security personnel were unable identify the intruder before , apparently , a wall caved in. The wall collapse allowed the suspect to escape arrest. It is believed that the assailant is connected to a series of seven bank robberies spanning throughout the Dallas area. If you have any leads on these mysterious thefts please call the police or our anonymous hotline. This is Geena Hantley , Dallas Morning News reporting."_

Anxiously placing a french fry from her lunch into her mouth, she watched the television screen in the break room of Downtown Books. It was odd watching as Geena Hantley reported to the entire city about current events. Events in which she had participated just five hours ago. Normally when people watched the news , they watched because they wanted to find out what was going on in someone else's life. They wanted to know if anyone they knew was involved in a drive-by or about the latest medical research on wether or not Ipods could cause cancer. It was different when she was the topic of today's report. In some ways , she felt a glimmer of pride just knowing that she had accomplished something important enough to land her a spot on the morning news. But at the same time it disturbed her that people would unwittingly know details about her other life. Details that she did not necessarily want publicized.

" Hey!" A irate voice called , followed something making painful contact with the back of her head. The object rebounded off her skull and landed on the table in front of her , revealing itself to be a blue ball point pen.

"OW!" She spun around in her chair , meeting the gaze of Sandy. The young woman's hand position suggested that she had been the origin of the pen. "What was that for?!"

Sandy Lozier was a short , stocky teenager with a head of hair that had the bright intensity of golden flames. She wasn't the most glamourous girl , but she had a whimsical beauty that emanated from the sweet , fun loving spirit inside. A spirit and naivety that one tended to gravitate towards. Though they only saw each other at work , they quickly found themselves becoming companions. Though she would not go so far as to call Sandy a "friend" , she did enjoy the time they spent in each other's company. Sandy and her shared a common interest in various sciences , and had bonded while stocking the shelves with the latest volumes of delightful scholarly lore. It was uplifting to be able to have an intelligent chat , without the conversation ending with foul language and drawn out brawls.

" I've been trying to talk to ya' for almost five minutes!" Sandy replied in a thick , almost cliche Texan accent. " What's on that television screen that ya couldn't even hear a word I said?"

Still massaging the back of her skull , she shot Sandy a dirty look. " Sorry. I was just watching the news."

" Did ya hear about the guy who's robbing all the banks? It's been plastered all over the news this mornin'."

" Yeah." She secretly wanted to correct Sandy for her gender error , but knew it wise to keep her mouth shut. " Pretty scary stuff. "

" The newspaper said that the guy just up and disappeared. Guess he got lucky that the wall happened to fall in just as he was going get arrested."

" I guess. So what did you want to talk about?"

" Saw your new ride parked outside the store."

" Isn't she great. I've wanted a Kawasaki since I was nine."

" Jo , your a teenager who works in a bookstore. You mind tellin' me where you got the dough to pay for it? Brand spankin' new motorcycles don't grow on trees." Her friends teasing comment had a slight air of accusation.

" The Ninja 650 isn't _just_ a motorcycle ." She playfully retorted and paused , quickly making up a witty and sarcastic excuse for her sudden boost in income. "My dad sent me money. The guy apparently felt guilty about ignoring me for seventeen years." In truth , she had no idea where her father was. Sometimes it sucked being an illegitimate child because she could never use her biological father as an excuse for anything.

" You and I both know that you have no clue where your daddy is ." Sandy waited for reply. Finding none , she placed her hands on her hips. " Fine! Don't tell me where you got it. You just better not be doin' anything illegal to pay for that machine."

" I'm not." It was almost amusing how easily blatant lies could flow off her tongue.

Sandy turned to leave , but stopped . " Jo, I know I've only known you for a little while , but..."

" What?"

" You've been different lately."

She immediately felt the need to defend herself from her cohort's accusatory tone. " Different how?"

Her companion kept her mouth open , as if trying to find the words to fill it. " More..."

" Confident?" she replied with a naturally lopsided smile.

" Cocky. Last week you almost got fired for tellin' off our boss."

" Mr. Horowitz had it coming. Even he's not supposed to take money from the till with out consulting the store owner." She retorted indignantly. " I was just reminding him of store policy."

Sandy folded her arms , clearly displeased about where this conversation was going. " Then ya start showin' up late to work , with no explanation why."

" I've been working a late job over at the mall. It's hard to get up that early." She lied and placed another french fry from her lunch into her mouth.

" And _now _ya ridin' around on a rather expensive piece of hardware that should be labeled _Motorized Death."_

" So your mad because I'm finally acting happy for the first time in my life?"

Sandy looked incredibly hurt that she was accused of being envious of her friend. " I'm concerned because your actin' like your havin' a mid-life crisis."

With a frustrated sigh , she looked her familiar in the eye. " Sandy , I know you're just looking out for me but I can take care of myself. "

" If that were true , then you wouldn't still be living with your ma."

" That's because I don't want to spend my time and money trying to get emancipated. It would be a waste considering that I turn eighteen in two months."

" I just want ya to know that ya don't always have to deal with things alone." Sandy's voice grew quiet and sincere.

" I appreciate the sentiment , but I prefer to handle my issues on my own."

Defeated , Sandy quickly changed the subject. "Well , we have customers comin' in. Get on your smock and get your butt out here."

She playfully saluted her friend. " Yes Ma'am."

" And don't think you're off the hook. We'll talk later."

" I'm sure we will."

Sandy exited the break room , leaving her alone to let their conversation fester in her mind. Underneath the stiff-upper-lipped front that she had to put on , she felt bad that she could not tell her associate her troubles. However , guilt was not a sufficient motivator to let this situation out of the bag. Letting emotions and friendship cloud judgment was a good way to get yourself caught , arrested and imprisoned for life. She was not about to let a month of companionship get in the way of her continued freedom. Friendship was useless in jail.

Removing herself from the comfort of her seat , she walked across the break room to where the staff lockers were located. Her locker stood at the end of the second row , making her walk the longest distance out of the other employees. As she neared the her usual locker assignment , a discrepancy in the normal arrangement of space caught her attention. On the floor underneath her locker sat a large brown envelope. Inscribed on the wrinkled paper , in black sentimental scrawl , was her name.

With weary observation , she removed the curious package from the ground. She knew of no one who would be sending her packages. Being the daughter of a woman who owned no mailbox had insured that sorry fact. The only thing she had received in her life that even fell into the category of letter , were eviction notices precariously jammed in her front door from choleric landlords.

Curling her finger nail underneath the lip of the package's opening , she ripped through the adhesive. As she extracted and examined the contents of the wrapping , a sense of unfounded dread entered her mind. In her hand she held a book , seemingly ordinary and innocent. It's cover was a rich shade of dark blue , engraved neatly with a lighter cursive-S design. She knew this book from the many copies she had been forced to stock on the stores shelves. Large capital letters that spelled _Activating Evolution_ stared up at her from the glossy cover.

With a cautious hand , she opened the book to the title page. To her unpleasant surprise , someone had inscribed a note to her inside.

**Miss Joann Hayworth ,**

**As I am sure you're aware, a change has occurred inside of you. **

**You are different now. You have a unique ability **

**at your disposal. My name is Dr. Chandra Suresh and **

**I have a theory about you. You are not alone **

**Miss Hayworth. I urge you to seize this chance. **

**I will be sending my associate to contact you.**

**Chandra Suresh**

As if Suresh's words had sent an electric current through her hands , she snapped the cover of the book shut. Questions began to spin in her head like whirling Dervishes. The question that worried her the most was , how did some stranger know what she could do? How did her deepest secret suddenly become the musings of some crackpot doctor? She had never told a single , solitary soul about how she could make everyday objects bend and change to her every whim. If this Chandra Suresh knew about her "ability" , there was a chance that he knew what she had been using it for. The dreadful word blackmail was her first thought.

Her heart leapt into her throat at the very cogitation. If he did have demands and she refused , jail would be the immediate result. That was something that she couldn't let happen. Even if he didn't attempt to blackmail her , there was no way of telling what he would do to her with the information he already had. Risking capture was not an option!

A plan had already begun to formulate in her mind. All she had to do was run and get as far away from Dallas as she could. There were no obligations for her to remain here. Her family life sucked , her work didn't carry much importance and she now had a viable means of transport. If she were to leave tonight , no one would notice until she was long gone.

The mere idea of an excuse to leave her old life behind made a devious smile creep into her lips. This seemingly catastrophic situation now proved to be the chance she had dreamt for so many years. She could start fresh , and live any life she wanted. A new name , a new home. Her windows of opportunity were now wide open. The words of Suresh's note poured into her subconscious , and opened the Pandora's box of her new existence. _"I urge you to seize this chance." _Though she was sure this method of evasion was not what Suresh had meant when he'd penned the cryptic note , she intended to follow it.

People often associated escape with cowardice. She saw it as a way to live , a way to preserve her own dignity. Throughout her long and painful life , she had a penchant for knowing when to run. It had easily become a rather grim and unfortunate talent of hers. Whenever her mother would go into a drunken fury , she knew when and where to hide to avoid being beaten into a bloody pulp. Escape was the ultimate form of protection. Wanting to live and preserve one's freedom was not an act of cowardice , but of intelligence. The people who thought running was a sign of the faint-hearted had no idea what it was like. Not a clue about being afraid for their life or having to flee from evil on a daily basis. In a strange and pathetic way , she pitied them for being so sheltered about the true darkness of the world around them. That was the only thing she could ever thank her mother for giving her. Over the years her mother had beat her into having a crystal clear perspective of the world.

With the smile still stretching across her face , she placed the book in her locker , retrieved her smock and return to work as if nothing had changed. Only , everything had...

----------

She progressed through the day as if it was normal. She ran the cash register , stocked books on the shelves and helped customers. All of her duties were carried out in a stoic and willing manner. None of her co-workers , including the more observant Sandy , seemed to be aware that something in her docile countenance had changed dramatically. Inside , her stomach was doing back-flips. Excitement , fear , anxiety and joy were all surging through her at the same time , leaving her as giddy as a school girl. She had done some pretty amazing , stupid and impossible things these last few months , but this took the cake. She was going to go on the road and not look back.

It was dark outside when she finally ended her shift , the last shift she would ever work for Downtown Books. There was no sadness or regret as she removed what little belongings she had from her locker into her work backpack , including the book that had changed her her prospects in life , and migrated to the front of the store. Sandy waved , giving her the usual " See ya tomorrow" farewell. With her pleasant asymmetrical smile , she returned the sentiment and walked speedily to the exit. When she opened the door , her speed barreled forward , narrowly missing a man with hideously framed glasses. Their shoulders grazed , but she didn't look at him. Ignoring his indignant "excuse me" , she turned her full attention to her wonderful black Ninja parked directly in front of the store.

With a slight skip in her step , she playfully dashed to the bike and mounted. Completing the usual procedures of motorcycle safety involving the helmet , she turned the key in the ignition. The electronic animal saddled beneath her purred happily , like a child greeting a parent after a long day's work. Grasping the sides tightly with her legs , she roared forward on the wheels. There was nothing quite like being strapped to 600 cc. of raw power , and feeling the blast of air as it pummeled against her clothes. On her bike she felt invulnerable and completely exhilarated.

She headed directly home from the store. Packing for her infinitely prolonged road trip had to be done whilst her mother was still in her catatonic , booze induced lethargy. It would take , at the most , ten minutes to load her money stash , clothes and any small valuables into a duffle bag. Once that was done , she could say farewell to the cruel house and all the hellish nightmares it contained.

Creeping silently through the house , avoiding the drunken lump on the sofa , she located her large black duffle and went to work. The money was the first thing that she shoveled into in the deep recesses of her luggage. That was her utmost priority , because without it the escape would be a one-way ticket to homelessness. After the money came clothes and toiletries. To her own surprise , she tucked the Activating Evolution book amidst the untidy mass of unlaundered clothes. For some mysterious reason she felt that it may be needed. Ignoring the illogical quirk , she prepared herself for the next item she would take. A chill trickled down her spine at the very thought of retrieving this particular object. It was not the object itself that caused the dread , but its location was a different story.

-----------

For as long as she could remember , her mother's bedroom had been an inhospitable domain. The slightest look at the door caused fear , due to the memories associated with it. The one time in her childhood that she had ventured into the abyss of the forbidden room had been met with tragedy. She had been six years old at the time. At that age , she had been a abnormally curious and thoughtful youth , exploring everything that sparked her interest. One day , while her mother was at the liquor store , she had noticed that the bedroom door had been left open. Ignorant of the the consequences her curiosity would invoke , she entered , anxious to explore the new territory that had been opened to her. She remembered the room being dark , dank and smelly. Her mother's vomit riddled clothes laid strewn across the floor , attracting all kinds of unsanitary vermin. The bed , devoid of any appropriate linens , stood blatantly unaligned from the rest of the dust encrusted furniture. The walls and drapes that had apparently once been white , were stained by careless barrages of booze and other substances that she did not wish to speculate of their origins. Through the vile conditions , memory of one special decoration was the most prevalent. Even at her young age , she was able to recognize the fact that her mother had taken care of one specific object. As her home fell apart around her and her daughter's blood stained her brutalizing hands , Deborah Hayworth had managed to spare one single possession. The photograph was the one thing , other than alcohol , that her mother treasured.

She remembered it vividly. During her incursion , she had stumbled upon the small picture. It had been stuck into the lower corner of her mother's broken vanity mirror. It was unlike any object she had seen before , due to a lack of proper childhood upbringing. The attraction to touch and hold the picture in her tiny hands was unbearable , so she followed where her inclinations took her. Upon retrieving the fascinating piece of paper , she studied it as intently as her immature mind would allow.

To this day she could clearly see the picture in her mind's eye. Trapped beneath the glossy coating was a world that she had never seen. A world before her mother had allowed herself to succumb to the dangerous addiction , a world before the painful late night beatings , a world before she even existed on this planet. Staring up at her were two smiling people , an unfamiliar man and a woman that she hardly recognized as her mother. A smile on Deborah Hayworth's face was as rare as snow in the middle of August. She had never seen it occur in real life. Yet , in the presence of this man , she had been happy enough to let it occur. All those years ago , the concept of a smile appearing on The Beast's face was foreign and confusing. It was impossible to connect the monstrosity that she encountered everyday , with the young vibrant woman.

Before she had a chance to examine the picture and continue her innocent exploration further , an earth-shattering voice made her heart stop.

" YOU LITTLE BITCH!"

Whirling around , picture still guiltily clutched in her fingers , she came face to face with her own personal anti-christ. In the doorway of the bedroom loomed her mother. Being six years of age , the woman appeared to be as great as a mountain , towering furiously over her.

" I'LL TEACH YOU TO MEDDLE WITH MY STUFF!"

In one ferocious , swift movement , her mother grabbed her by her tiny wrist and effortlessly through her small body into a nearby wall. With a crack she felt her shoulder dislocate from it's socket upon impact. Terrified and excruciating tears rolled down her cheeks , which infuriated the woman more.

"SHUT UP YOU LITTLE BABY!"

She saw red as the bulk of her mother's strength was transfered to her face in the form of a bone crushing punch.

" NO MOMMY! I'M SORRY!" She pleaded , in too much shock and fear to attempt to block her mother's violence.

" STOP CRYING!"

Once again , the evil woman took hold of her dislocated arm and began to twist it as slowly as possible , increasing the pain with every millimeter of movement. The torture seemed to continue for hours as she released scream after blood-curdling scream.

" I'M SORRY MOMMY! I'M SORRY MOMMY! PLEASE STOP!!!!! NO MORE!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!"

Even at this current time , she still had no idea how long she had endured the cruelty before she finally fallen unconscious. She woke up three days after the attack on the living room floor , covered in every classification of trauma that she could think of. Apparently , The Beast had thought it fitting to continue the beating long after her tiny victim had stopped screaming. The pummeling that she had amazingly taken had been so severe that the dislocated shoulder had been relocated in the course of the traumatizing event , never to return to it's original range of movement.

For two weeks after the nearly fatal thrashing , she spent a good variety of her time cowering in her closet bedroom. As the wounds healed themselves , she occupied herself with thinking. After every battering , she went through stages. At first the only thing she could think about was pain. The pain in her body seemed insignificant compared to the pain in her soul. She blamed herself for provoking her mother's wrath for doing something that had seemed so innocent at first and dwelt on her own carelessness. Days were spent in a constant state of self-loathing and silent tears. At these times , even at six years old , she mentally cursed the heavens for ever bringing her into this world. The desire to die controlled her body and rendered her catatonic for undetermined amounts of time.

After the loathing came the delusions. When they set in , she pretended that she was standing on the top of the tallest building in the Dallas skyline, looking down at all the people. There , she was free from her body and all the afflictions that came with it. In this dreamworld her mind soared high above the restrictions of the world. At these times , she was a dreamer and delighted in every minute of freedom. In her mind she would float over cities and visit amazing places. Places that one could only see if they had enough money and time to do so. It was in these places that she played with imaginary friends. One of her best and closest was a boy that lived in a faraway land. He had no name and was much older than her , but that didn't stop her from enjoying his company. Together they would hop over buildings , and swim on tropical beaches. While she was with him in her mind , impossible and wonderful things could happen. In ways he was her Peter Pan , sweeping her off to Neverland and rescuing her from the reality of her dismal situation. Though she now knew that the boy was just a childish figment of a desperate little girl's imagination , she still offered him unwavering gratitude for the many times he had saved her sanity.

Soon she would transcend the psychotic dreams and began to analyze why her predicament had occurred. This particular incident stuck out more than any other that she had experienced , because it had happened over something so totally ridiculous . It was then that she remembered the man in the photograph. His face , his clothes , his hair was all vividly engraved in her head , never to leave her. As age strengthened her ability to reason , she was finally able to determine the identity of a man who had been important enough to her mother , that any handling of his picture would incite such brutality.

At age fifteen she eventually put all the puzzle pieces together. The man's physical features had begun her nine year thought process on this matter. It was only when she looked in the mirror did she realize why. She bore a shocking resemblance to him in almost every way. The Mediterranean style jawbone , the onyx locks of hair , and the strong and slender build of their body frames were all unique traits. Traits that couldn't have possibly come from the Scottish lineage of her mother. It was painfully obvious that this man had contributed into her very creation. He was her father...

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This photograph was the only history that she had. Growing up in her mother's home had never been an appropriate environment to learn about her origin and purpose in this world. Here , asking a question was considered a death wish. Tonight was her last chance to change her life , and she would start with learning about why she had been born into a place that she now felt an overwhelming desire to flee from. History was the best way to learn about the future , and not repeat mistakes of the past. That was precisely why she would not leave without that photograph.

With the heavy duffle strapped to her shoulders , she tiptoed across the living room where her mother was passed out and headed down the hallway. As she reached the door and extended her hand to touch the knob , she began to shake uncontrollably. A psychological pain formed in her shoulder at the memories that were being stirred up. The physical scars of that night had long since healed , but were far from being forgotten.

Taking a deep and shaking breath , she took the metal knob in her hand. Apparently , some kind of response was triggered when she touched the knob , because the skin cells of the hand began to buzz. Knowledge of the door knob's atomic make up entered her brain. Brass. Iron. Aluminum. With this knowledge , she was once again she was reminded that her ability was still an uncontrollable force , triggered during stressful situations. This emphasized the need to use caution it her handling of this anomaly. Shaking off the sensation , she entered the room.

It was just as she remembered from eleven years ago. The stench of vomit and liquor , the lopsided bed , the stained drapes. Nothing seemed to have moved it's position. Not wanting to waste more time than she had to , she scanned the the vanity mirror. There it sat. The photograph , the one true answer to why she had suffered so many years. She dashed to it , taking it in her hand and shoved it into her pocket. With a strong sense of self-satisfaction she turned to leave. Upon reaching the bedroom door , her heart jumped into her throat.

There was no accurate way of explaining how exactly she knew , how exactly she could sense that something was incredibly wrong. It started off as a uncomfortable buzzing of her fingertips and began to grow. As it crept through her body like an army of marching ants, the air around her seemed to vibrate. Her brain struggled to process what exactly was happening , stressing itself to the point of frustration. When it finally managed to translate the information , a door had been opened . She could suddenly feel the world around her. Every movement of every particle , every atom around her passed through her head with alarming intensity. She could feel the vibrations of a fly's wings , and the exhaling breaths of her "sleeping mother." These miniscule particles of energy began to draw a map of her surroundings , just as it had when she was stumbling around the bank hallways. But this time was much different...

A picture had been drawn and now played in front of her eyes , a movie of the present. This time it was focused on , not just the room around her , but also the outside of the house. It was then that she realized why the sudden anxiety had seized her. In the front yard , something had drastically altered the natural configuration of which atoms moved. More accurately , _someone_ had disrupted the way energy flowed. Another person , a person who didn't belong here , was approaching the house. However , this was no ordinary individual. There was a difference. Normally , she couldn't feel people around her. Only non-living objects seemed to call out to her. Something about the individual that was now closing in on her doorstep brought fear to her. She could see inside of them and what she saw terrified her. This person was physically different from normal people. This person was like her. But there was more beneath the simple fact that whoever this person was had a physical uniqueness. Something more prevalent in the atmosphere that emanated off this individual , caused her unimaginable terror. Whoever was standing in her front yard reeked of evil intentions.

Quickly resolving to not find out what these intentions might be , she began to look for an escape that did not involve the front door. The most expedient exit was her mother's window. Without wasting precious seconds thinking about the person at her door , she bolted to the window. Rapidly she slid it open , and jumped through. Climbing out of the window was quite a unusual task , considering that her full duffle bag had remained efficiently strapped to her back , but her feet eventually touched the dying grass of the back yard. Using every bit of agility she possessed , she ran around the side of the house. With cat-like stealth , she peered around the east corner of the building. The front yard was empty , and immediately she saw why.

The front door of her house was laying on the grass , hinges pulled clean off the door jam. Her mother's screaming could be heard from the living room , followed by a voice. The sound of the intruder's voice permeated deep into her subconscious. It mirrored the voice that haunted everyone's dreams. This type of voice was so commonly used by actors in horror movies , because it triggered a horrible psychological fear. But this was no movie.

" Where's the girl?" The man asked , his tone riddled with an ominous stillness.

" She's at work." Her mother's slurred speech replied with trembling terror.

There was terrible crash , followed by a heinous and excruciating screech. Heavy , masculine footsteps began to tread across the floor.

" Your lying to me." The man's voice held a terrible sense of delight. " Where is she?"

" I don't know." Her mom sobbed in fright.

Another crash , this time with the sharp ring of breaking glass. The sound that followed would never leave her for as long as she lived. A wail , unlike anything she had heard , echoed from the open door of the house. It was unearthly. A sound that could've come from the blistering inferno of hell. It continued for mere seconds , and then was silenced as quickly as it had begun. A moist splattering , like the smashing of a pumpkin , followed the silence. She knew well what was causing the noise, but wanted to deny that it was real. She wanted this to all be a figment of her imagination , but it wasn't. Her mother's blood was being splattered all over the living room.

Fighting back the paralyzing fear of the madman in her home , she ran. She soared across the front yard , not having the slightest inclination to look back. Before she realized it , she had mounted her motorcycle and was speeding at full speed down the street. Her mother's obvious fate brought her no grief , only fear. Fear that whoever had killed her mother had really been looking for her. As for the woman , who's karma had finally caught up with her, _In pace requiescat!_

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A/N: Read carefully , and don't jump to conclusions. This is one of the longest chapter's I have ever written for any of my stories , so I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry for the wait. Maybe some more reviews will speed up my typing fingers ;-) If my dialogue sucked big time , I throughly apologize. It is not one of my more acute writing skills , but I'm working on improving that. Keep reading (AND REVIEWING)


	5. Chapter 5: Going On Holiday

A/N: This story was started right before the episode " Homecoming". It's been so long since I've been able to update that the rest of this story has become majorly AU. That's the hazard of writing for an ongoing show I guess. Oh well... Anyway, this chapter is a long one because I have been writing it on and off. Unfortunately, life got in the way of this story's progression so I had to go on sporadic writing hiatuses, not to mention my serious lack of creativity. I apologize to those of you who have read this story and have waited for it, if you have;-)

Also, my character's ability is called atomic transmutation. For further information about this ability go onto the Activating Evolution website or Wikipedia. That is if you don't want to wait for another chapter of mine.

I won't delay your reading anymore! Read on readers!

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Chapter 5: Going On Holiday

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Days started and ended in smooth flow of time. On her exit from Dallas , she had passed through Arlington and Fort Worth. Only when she approached Eastland did it dawn on her that she had no clue exactly where she was going to go. Over a hundred and fifty miles travelled and still not the faintest idea of what her future prospects were. The road ahead seemed to go on forever, and eventually began to blur as the journey wore on. Exactly where she was going wasn't a concern of hers at the moment. She had spent most of her waking hours perched atop her Ninja, trying to repress the memories of what had happened. This trip was supposed to have been an enjoyable departure from a life of misery and, very possibly, her eventual death at the hands of liquor generated evil. But what had happened forty-eight hours ago had turned everything around. Now, instead of improving on her past, she was running from it. Running from what was chasing her.

It was her first time away from her hometown, and she had come to the realization that she may never be free from the life she left behind. It wouldn't matter how fast or how far she ran. Where ever she went the fear of what she was and who was following her would always be in her head. It was around one in the morning when she had to make a pit stop. She hadn't wanted to, she was afraid to, but in the state that she was in, her desires and fears didn't seem to matter. Two hours of non-stop driving had taken it's toll on her body and bike. Her legs ached, her shoulders burned , and her hands shook violently from fatigue as they clutched the bike's steering. Turning a distracted glance to the gas tank indicator on the Ninja, she realized that the amount of gas she had left would only last her about ten more miles. Where she was still too close to Dallas for comfort, but it was the only alternative to running out of fuel on some unfamiliar stretch of road.

Nerves began to lock down on her insides as she prepared herself to turn into the nearest service station. It was becoming difficult to banish the fear that she would turn around to find some maniac following her in a car, ready to end her pathetic existence. The man had killed Deborah had really been looking for her. Thinking about it made anger and fear well up inside her. Had she really spent all those years surviving her mother's cruelty just to wind up some scared prey for a killer?

What worried her most was that she knew deep down how vulnerable she really was at the moment. She was alone, helpless and terrified, with _almost_ no way of defending herself. Sure she could bend, melt and implode every man-made object with the slightest touch of her skin, but what good would such an ability be on a human being? If he managed to make physical contact with her, she would not be able to fend him off for long. Her front door being ripped off its hinges and thrown across the lawn remained a testament of this person's strength. He could rip a door off a house with his bare hands, what would he do to her?

Lights from a small dilapidated motel twinkled in the dark ahead like a small beacon. Trying to silence her fears of the danger behind her, she gently began to guide the Ninja towards it. As the place grew closer the gas tanks to the side of the motel came into view. A minor sense of relief penetrated her. She wouldn't have to worry about being stranded on the side of the road or about falling asleep while she was driving. All she wanted was a few hours rest from running. Hopefully, a good night's rest sleep would bring that to her, if she could get to sleep at all.

Cautiously, being sensitive to any possible sign of danger that could approach her, she turned into the crudely paved parking lot and took off her helmet. A cringe immediately crept across her face as she scanned the outside of the building with disdain. Her mother's house made the motel look somewhat agreeable, but it could not have been farther from a five star resort. The building itself appeared to be tilting sharply on its left hand side, being supported only by a few precariously placed supports that held up the balcony to the second story rooms. Perhaps in a past life it could've been a pleasant place to stay, but years of neglect and environmental abuse had caused its surroundings to begin a process of degradation. The sight of rotting paneling and an overwhelming smell of decaying wood prompted her to pray that the place would hold its integrity just long enough for her to sleep and refuel her gas tank.

Reluctantly, she parked the bike, removed her helmet and headed to the motel entrance. Her nerves refused to settle, giving her a twitchy countenance as she walked. This behavior made her look suspicious and suspicion was not something a ex-thief could not afford to be surrounded by. By now, the police would searching the murder scene that she had left. Even if they didn't know about her secret, she was now a witness to a gruesome crime and they would stop at nothing to find her for questioning. Right now, drawing attention to the fact that she did not belong in such a rural part of Eastland was a dangerous thing to do.

She tried to remind herself of that fact, but every step she took towards the motel entrance caused her great anxiety.

_"Get a grip Jo!" _She scolded herself._ "You're in the middle of no where. No one knows you're here, so just go inside, pay for some gas and ask for a room."_

Before she could prepare herself any further for the task in front of her, a gruff voice shook her out of her train of thought.

" Who there?!" A man called from inside the building.

Her voice caught in her throat. She hadn't expected to be addressed so quickly and the harshness of the man's "greeting" had startled her already unsettled nerves.

Apparently, she had hesitated longer than she was supposed to because the gruff voice shouted again. "I said who there?! You better answer, because I ain't in no mood to be bothered at this time of night!"

" I'm looking for some gas and a place to stay." She replied, not wanting to provoke any wrath from the clearly irate man.

She heard footsteps from inside the building. Before she realized exactly where they were coming from a lit window popped open, and a head peered out at her. If she hadn't known better she would've sworn that the Crypt Keeper from Tales of The Crypt was staring through the window and into her eyes. Short strands of stringy white hair ran down his head from a large bald spot that sparkled in the light. The face was a mass of pale and shriveled skin, giving him the cavernous appearance of someone who had not seen the light of day in quite some time.

It wasn't clear how long she stood there, wondering what the man was thinking as her surveyed her. She was about to make a dash back to her motorcycle when something unexpected happened. The man gave her a joyful and toothless grin.

" Sorry about that. Didn't mean to scare you. I've been havin' troubles with vandals coming through here and spray painting my walls."

" It's fine..." She replied with barely a whisper. "I really need some gas and a room."

The man's smile dwindled a little. " Do you have any idea what time it is? What are you doing out here at one in the morning?"

" I know it's late, but I really need some place to stay."

"I kin help you with the gas, but I don't know how livable the rooms are. I haven't had guests for a long time. Maybe you should head into town. "

" I don't really care about how the rooms are." Her own rudeness startled her, but the urgency of her situation was starting to show through in her voice. She wanted to get somewhere where she didn't feel as vulnerable, rather then standing exposed in an abandoned parking lot. " I need to get to sleep or else I'm going to swerve off the road. Please could I just have a room for the night and I'll get out of your hair first thing in the morning?"

" Well, since you're so impatient," The man gave her another warm smile, making her feel guilty about her poor attitude. "I'm always happy to help a lady in need. I have sumthin' for you. Jus' don' expect no fancy turn down service."

" Thank you."

He beckoned her through the front door, where he handed her an old rusted key that he had just removed from it's hook on the wall. " There you go. That there is room thirteen, upstairs. I got you sumthin' on the right side of the building seeing as the lef' is kinda screwy."

She couldn't help but smile slightly at the man's kindness. " Let me go fill up my tank and I'll..."

" Now don't you put yourself to the trouble of filling up you're tank. I'll do that for you." He said gleefully. " You're my first guest in years, and I'd be happy to help."

" Thanks ..." It was hard to know how to react to such unusual generosity. No one had ever been so gracious to her before, so it made her rather awkward in showing gratitude. Instead, she decided to give him the only thing she had. Reaching into the duffle bag she fished around, cautiously making sure that it's contents could not be seen through the zippers, and pulled out two one hundred dollar bills. " Here."

The man stared in awe at the amount of money that he was being given. " That's more then I need. Where did a young lady like yourself get that?"

" My parents were loaded." Lying was becoming way too easy, and it worried her a bit. " Take it."

He smiled and took the money in his shriveled hands. " That's awful nice of you but I need to know what a little girl like yourself is doing out in the back country at one in the mornin'. It's not safe travelin' alone you know."

" I know." She was well aware of how unsafe the world was. What she had left behind in Dallas was evidence of that. " Thank you."

" Forget about it. Happy to help."

" Is there anything else that you need Miss?"

" Nope. I'd just want to go to sleep." _And forget that she even existed._

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It wasn't long before she found herself surveying the room elderly owner had given her, and worrying about falling through the floor if she stepped on the wrong floorboard. He had been right when he said that there hadn't been any guests in years and, from the state of the room, she could see why. It had once been a charming room, but time had not been kind to it. The wallpaper was grey with age, and there were large holes in the floor where termites had eaten through the wood. There was hardly any furniture to speak of with the exception of an old bed and a saggy mattress, whose springs were popping through the fabric in some places.

" So much for getting some sleep." Frustration welled up inside of her as she thought about what she had been reduced to. Sleeping in a place that wasn't even fit to be called a "room", on the run from the law and God knows who else. Crying felt like the thing she should be doing but her tear ducts seemed to be too proud. It was best to find something else to do with her time.

Throwing her bag on the bed, she began to rummage through her stuff to find some clean clothes to change into. The search was cut short when she recoiled one of her hands in pain. She had accidently run the skin of her pinky across the sharp page edges of Suresh's book causing a deep paper cut. Irritated by this further insult to her situation, she grabbed a hold of the book. The picture of the good doctor glared back at her, taunting her. She couldn't help but feel that this was his fault. The words inscribed on the inside cover of the book told her that she was right.

**"As I am sure you're aware, a change has occurred inside of you. **

**You are different now. You have a unique ability **

**at your disposal."**

He was the only other person who knew about her ability, and had led the blood thirsty hunter right to her front door. She made a vicious, almost inhuman sound as she threw the book violently against the wall.

" I didn't want to be found! This was supposed to be my new life and now I can't go anywhere without worrying about people finding me!" Yelling probably wasn't the best thing to be doing, but she couldn't help herself. It felt good to vent. It made her feel somewhat normal, even though she was anything but. She stared at the book in satisfaction, its pages opened like the mouth of a defeated animal. The contemplation of tearing the book to pieces crossed her mind before she noticed a yellow piece of paper that had bookmarked a particular page. Suddenly curious, she walked over and read the title of the marked chapter.

_**Chapter 14: "Molecular, Atomic and Elemental Transmutation/Manipulation"**_

_**Though dismissed by the scientific community as the work of science fiction, the ability to mentally access and change the inner workings of matter around us is theoretically quite possible. As human beings, we have an innate skill of changing the environment around us around us to fit our purposes. The construction of civilizations depend on this skill. We can change the direction in which water flows by creating dams. We use ore from deep in the ground to create metals we use every day. Scientists have even found ways to change the way atoms configure themselves to create more powerful reactions. What the human mind has the potential to create is unfathomable. Is it then possible for a single person to create changes in the world around us with the slightest thought? Theoretically, a fluke of birth can give a person the ability to change the very basic physical makeup of any object around them to fit their purposes. **_

The sound of her heart began to flow through her ears. Was he talking about her? All those weeks ago she had been struggling to understand what was happening to her body only to find out now that she could've just looked on a bookshelf for her answers. More importantly, she now could know exactly how Suresh found her and perhaps learn the full extent of her abilities. This knowledge would be her greatest defense against whoever would come after her. She immediately wanted to read further into the chapter, but she thought it best to try and sleep. Tomorrow she had a lot of ground to travel before she could feel more secure that someone would not be following her.

In the back of her mind she knew that this was just the beginning of the hardships she would face...

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Sorry again about this LONG hiatus. Please review and maybe it won't be another year before I update again;-) Any questions about the story, just contact me. You all know what to do. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!!


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